


Sillage and Brontide

by renieandthejets



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader is extremely skeptical and doesn't know how to talk to people, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and is really selfish, but I mean shit you would be too if people just showed up on your doorstep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renieandthejets/pseuds/renieandthejets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't perfect. Far from it, actually. But considering the fact that the world had quite literally gone to shit and you were anything but normal, there wasn't really any room for pickiness.</p><p>And that was just fine.</p><p>Eventual Reader x Daryl; very slow burn. Set in between the months of season 2 and 3 and will continue from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who survived?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! Some of you might recognize me from my account over on Lunaescence, and yes, I'm the same person. I just figured it would be nice to come over here as well. I've been on a hiatus for a little over a year now, as my sophomore year of college has absolutely killed me. I'm in the middle of finals right now, so don't expect steady updates for another week or so, but I do plan on being committed to this fanfic and any others that may come your way! Please do let me know what you think, as comments and reviews are what keep me going!

It had been said that time was one of the most important things in the universe, and that a life without time was a life not worth living at all. Society thrived on it, thrived on the schedules and the counting of months and days and years. Even the very act of growing up itself relied on time, commanding each and every young child of their path in life, dictating that one would need to get married at a certain age, find a job at a certain age, retire at a certain age. Time, it seemed, was the true ruler of all. But now… 

Now… 

You honestly couldn’t remember the last instance of when time even mattered. 

When the apocalypse hit, the notion of keeping track of what month, let alone what day it was, was ridiculous. The passing of the seasons were truly the only indications of what month it might have been, but now, people were forced to rely on the weather for the upkeep of their safety and wellbeing. Fortunately for you, the weather hadn’t been as harsh as it could have. Autumn was slowly beginning to settle in, colder nights becoming less and less sparse than they had been in the late summer. And while it had only been maybe three months since the outbreak began, there was a very real and very grim possibility that the dawn of whatever day you were on just might be your last. Gone were the days of convenience and relaxation. Now, you were faced with the decision of fight or fucking die trying. 

You had always been a southern girl; born and raised with your parents and two sisters in Savannah, you eventually attended Georgia Tech, graduating with a degree in biomedical engineering and making your father more proud than he had ever been in his life. It was a hectic career, working on designing some of the best goddamn medical appliances and prosthetics Atlanta had ever seen, but you couldn’t have imagined yourself anywhere else, despite the generous offers from hospitals in upstate New York and cities scattered along the West Coast. And while the choice of career hadn’t been exactly praised by your stay-at-home mother, her needs were satiated after the marriage of not only you, but your two sisters, both four years your junior. And while they were in happy relationships with the loves of their lives, you couldn’t seem to find a single moment of happiness with your husband. It wasn’t that he had been unfaithful or abusive, it was just that the love between the two of you didn’t seem to last very long. The years went by and the marriage became more of a formality than anything else, a relationship between two friends who happened to have the same career in the same hospital in the same city. 

Now, alone and killing the undead at the ripe age of thirty-three, you wondered if there was anything you could have done to at least have had a better life than the one you were currently living. The three graves marked with poorly made tombstones seemed to indicate otherwise. 

The sounding of snapping twigs brought you out of your moment of reprieve perched upon the windowsill of your grandfather’s two-story home, the night scope perched upon the sniper rifle aiming for the rustling within the forest. Brow furrowed and finger nearly-twitching against the trigger, you waited, but no other movement or sound came to pass. 

“Probably just a deer,” you muttered lowly to yourself, eyes beginning to turn away from the world outside and back into the solitary confines of your home. That was one of the worst things about living an hour south of Atlanta; on one hand, you were tucked away into safety from both walkers and humans alike, but on the other, any slightest noise was enough to put you on alert. Quietly slipping the window shut and locking it back into place, you rested your rifle against the wall and began to make your way downstairs. 

Had you stayed outside just a bit longer, you would have noticed the shuffling of boots and the presence of two armed figures emerge from the night.


	2. Somebody new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who read/left kudos/left a comment! I know not much happened last chapter but believe me when I say that it’ll pick up soon! I just want to get the reader fairly well-established before the action rolls in! Sidenote, did anyone watch the music video Norman Reedus was recently in for JiHae’s song?? Like, holy hell. *fans self* As always, comments/criticism is highly encouraged/appreciated!

Before the outbreak, there were so many things you had planned to do. Travel across the country, visit another country for the first time, maybe fall in love with a random stranger along the way. It was childish, you realized that now, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. With your lackluster marriage ever-accumulating in its unhappiness, your heart still yearned for opportunities to find things you hadn’t in your earlier years. 

Not like it mattered anymore. 

Combat boots thudded heavily against the hardwood floors of the foyer. Eyes scanning apprehensively, you made your second round around for the evening, checking to make sure that all doors and windows on the main floor of the house had been securely bolted in their proper places. Small hurricane lamps were littered throughout the home, lighting up the hallways and some parts of each room. Content that the house was as secure as it was ever going to be, you gave a self-reassuring nod and grabbed a flashlight off the kitchen table before making your way to the pantry, stomach growling in unconscious approval. You figured it had to have been a little past eight. Too late for supper back when everything was normal, but now meals had to be rationed sparingly throughout the day. 

Dinner consisted of a half can of green beans, spam, and a couple of slices of canned peaches. You had gotten used to the taste of the food after a while, but _God_ what you wouldn’t do for some real soul food. You were grateful, however, for how well stocked the place had been before the attack. After your grandmother passed away from breast cancer three years ago, your grandfather turned into one of those whack-job “preppers,” doing everything he could in his ailing health to prepare for the end of the world, some twisted form of atonement for outliving the woman he loved. Funny thing was, he wasn’t alone. It seemed the whole damn elderly community within a 20 mile radius shared his same sentiments. Whether it was from lack of sanity or some strange sense of foreshadowing, you had no idea, but every day you made a point to place a kiss on the picture resting above the fireplace. In some way, you owed your life to him, the old bastard. The basement was well-stocked, with a wide range of foodstuffs and medicines just in case things _really went to shit_. There were photo albums and books and blank journals and memorabilia from God knows how long ago. Your grandfather had even managed to snag a hold of a few rifles and handguns, not like you had any idea on how to use them. And while you weren’t even sure if you had made a dent in the supplies, you knew it was by no means any safe-haven. Had your parents or sisters and their husbands still been alive, the preserved goods hidden away underground would have been gone long ago. You grimaced at the thought of living with anyone else; just how selfish had you become? 

Taking a particularly vicious bite of spam, you pushed the remains of the can away and set the fork down on the table. With a sigh, you left the kitchen, fumbling around for your flashlight and heading towards the living room. You spared a quick glance at the fireplace, eyes blindly reaching out for the silhouette of a picture frame. You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was there, always watching over you. 

_Ba-dook ba-dook._

Your heart stopped. 

Who…?

Had you missed someone when you were scouting upstairs?

_Ba-dook ba-dook._

The foyer reverberated the insistent knocking throughout the rest of the house, the sound forcing its way all the way down to the very tips of your toes. 

The knob rattled with vigorous force, but you were dead certain that door was locked and bolted. No way any damn face-gnashers were getting in, not on your watch. 

Except, this time you weren’t quite sure you were dealing with the undead. The knocking seemed, well, _human_. And to be honest, you weren’t quite sure which situation was worse. Having not moved an inch from your spot in the center of the living room, you waited, hoping that whoever was outside would just give up and move on. There had to have been dozens of walkers outside in the woods around the house, but you knew better than to think that these people were stupid. The windows downstairs were boarded up and the front porch looked too clean and well-kept for a place that had supposedly been ditched in a hurry. No, if these people had any common sense, they would know that someone was living safely inside. 

“I don’t hear anything. You think there’re walkers inside?” 

A male voice. Gruff, but strong, accompanied by a southern drawl. 

You heard the hammer of a pistol click back. Not good. 

“Can’t say, Rick. Would’ve drawn them to the door by now. I’d say this place is as safe as any.” Another voice, this time deeper, and rougher, like listening to someone scratch sandpaper. 

_So there’s at least two men outside my house. Fan-fucking-tastic._

Without warning, you headed straight towards the front door, right hand reaching out for the DeMarini baseball bat wrapped and melded with bloodied wire leaning against the wall. You’d be damned if they took this place from you. You nearly slammed into the peephole, squinting hard for a desperate look at the men outside. In the heat of the night, you spotted one of the men, some sort of weapon slung over his shoulders. A crossbow, perhaps? The other more than likely had a gun in his hands if the earlier noise was any indication, and you were left wondering if it was possible to take either of them out. 

“It’s too late out here. We need to act _fast_. This area’s too open and walkers could be on us any minute. You stay here, and I’ll get the others.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, cursing whatever higher power that had put you in this situation alone. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

And then… 

“Both of you stay right fucking there!” 

_Silence._


	3. Anyone else but you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello children (says the 20 year old whoops) and welcome back. If you’ve been reading this since I posted, thanks so much! If you’ve left kudos, also thanks! It would honestly make me super happy if I could get a review this chapter or the next. I’m not looking for undying love from you guys, but it would mean the world to me if I just got a basic idea on how everyone feels about the story so far and if you think there’s anything I could improve on. While I do have confidence in my skills as a writer, we all have things we need to work on, so anything you have to say would be greatly appreciated. Thanks much and enjoy this next chapter.

For a while, it was silent. Neither party dared move an inch, almost sensing the impending gunshot or bludgeoning to the head should there be any sort of “miscommunication.” You could hear the rush of blood surging through your system as your heart sped faster and faster, addicted to the call of amplified adrenaline in your veins. The grip on your bat tightened. A figure outside shifted slightly, perhaps subconsciously. The silence grew more and more dense, more and more suffocating as you struggled to find the words that would make these people go away. They knew you were here, in your _home_ , and you had hoped that the tone of voice suggested that they were not going to be making residence in it anytime soon. 

“How many of you are there?” you called after a while, never once easing your grip on your weapon. The two men outside said nothing. You might have thought they had left, had you not been constantly watching them from the security of the peephole. 

“I _said_ , how many of you are there? Answer me, before I blow your fuckin’ heads off.” Okay, so you were a bit of a liar. Not like they needed to know that. 

“Please, we don’t want any trouble. We were just—”

“I don’t care what you were _just_ trying to do. You tell me how many goddamn people you have with you or you won’t make it back to your camp, stranger.” 

“ _Ten_. Ten, including the two of us.” 

A low hiss sounded in your throat as you backed away from the door slightly, nearly dropping the baseball bat out of shock. You had been expecting a group, but not nearly that many. What the hell were you thinking, calling out to them like that? If the rest of their group was close enough, the house would be overrun in minutes. Not to mention that the longer you kept them outside, the more suspicious things would start to seem, and the more likely the rest of the group would come out to look for their missing friends. There was also the very high probability that these men had the rest of their group waiting in the woods, and if you killed them now, things would get real ugly real fast. 

“Ma’am, please. We’re looking for help. No one has to get hurt. We’ve been on the run for weeks now.” He sounded desperate, weary. Not that you could blame him. Running out and about with millions of the undead chasing after for a taste of your blood was more than enough to suck out any last bit of energy you had. Heck, the last time you had made a run for supplies in Luthersville you had almost had your face bit off. 

But that didn’t mean you were willing to let a group of strangers into your home, not after what you went through. 

You scoffed. “Right, and I bet you’re also here to tell me about our good Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. _Get lost_. If I see any of you back on this farm again, I won’t hesitate to snuff the life out of you.” 

The two men outside were silent again. You could hear them muttering amongst themselves and you mentally braced yourself, one hand on the bolt of the door and the other wrapped firmly around the rough grip of the DeMarini. Finally, after some time, he spoke up again. 

“ _Please_ , I’m begging you,” he rasped, voice raw and heavy with emotion, “Even if it’s just for the night, we need a place to stay. We don’t want any trouble. It’s getting cold out, and we’re low on supplies. There’s only so much we can do.” 

“Are you _stupid_? You know, the more you talk the more I’m tempted to just come out there myself and—”

“My wife's pregnant.” 

Any and all snarky remarks that were in your head died down with his last words. Instead of rage and frustration, your body was overwhelmed with a wave of sadness. But it wasn’t for him, nor was for his group. It was for your sister. The same sister who died six months into her pregnancy, a growing baby boy in her belly. The same sister who lived with you in your grandfather’s home right when the apocalypse hit. 

The same sister who had to watch in horror as you bashed her undead husband’s brain in. 

You felt guilty, then. How long had you been alone? How long had it been since you interacted with people? Real living, _breathing_ people? Your sister died not even a month into the outbreak, and you hadn’t seen anyone since then. And what would your grandfather think? The excuse that you had gotten so used to being alone and that you didn’t want to share all of his years of work with anyone else floated around in your mind, but you knew better. He was the type of man that welcomed anyone in with open arms and would have done anything for his family. 

So what would he do if he were right here, right now? 

_Your family might be gone soon, Skeeter, but that doesn’t mean you can’t always find another one._

A sigh escaped your lips. 

“Go and get your group, the both of you. If there are any face-gnashers along the way, put ‘em down. I’ve kept this place safe and clean for months, and there ain’t no way in hell that’s changing by letting you people in here. We’ll talk more once everyone’s inside, but for now just bring the rest of your people to safety.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond, and to be honest you didn’t really care as you made your way back to the inner areas of the house. This was already going against your better judgment, despite the guilty feeling that threatened to suffocate you. Standing in the middle of the living room, you put your hands on your hips and looked right at the picture of your grandfather, all smiles and kindness as he held your infant form. 

_Please, Pappy, don’t make me regret this._

\--

It took maybe another hour before there was another knock at the door. By now, the house was much more illuminated with candles and smaller lamps scattered about, with a few cots and blankets placed on the floor next to the sofa. There was another bedroom down the hall and a few more upstairs, but the place was still going to be an extremely tight fit. A couple cans of food and jerky were on the table, as you had no doubt they were hungry, but you only had so many supplies and you wanted them to last. With a hurricane lamp in the crook of your arm and the DeMarini in the other, you released the three bolts on the door before turning the knob and swinging it open, grateful for the relief that spread over you when you noticed that there wasn’t a single weapon pointed at your face. 

And they were weary. _God_ , they were weary. Despite what you could only see from the dim light emitting from the lamp, you knew that you were in much better condition than any of the people standing before you. Offering what you at least hoped looked something akin to a soft smile, you nodded and set your baseball bat against the wall before welcoming the group in with a small sweep of your arm. There was a chorus of thanks from everyone, and you could do nothing but nod and stand awkwardly at their kindness, only shutting and bolting the door once they had all stepped inside. 

“Well—uh, welcome, I guess. The name’s—”

You paused. The group had stopped their appraisal of the home and turned towards you, eyes filled with curiosity. 

“You guys can call me Skeeter.”


	4. On a lonely night was a blinding light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planning on updating this story at least once a week, and so far it’s working out. I wanted to have this done by Sunday, but I got caught up with some things and yesterday I went to my teammate's commencement ceremony, so I've been fairly busy! Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.

Introductions had never really been your thing. If you were going to be honest with yourself, people had never really been your thing, either. The sudden bravado and aggressiveness that came out when threatening the two men on your front doorstep had evaporated long ago, having been replaced by the socially awkward woman that couldn’t find it in herself to give these people her real name. Not like it mattered, because they were going to be out of your home soon enough, right? That was how you saw it, at least. Why give your name to people who would either be dead or forgotten a year from now? You really didn’t know why you had become this defensive, and you’re fairly certain that your grandfather wouldn’t approve, but for now his resting soul would just have to settle with the fact that you were kind enough to welcome heavily armed strangers into his final resting place. 

One of the men who you assumed to have been outside your doorstep headed your way with long strides, a hand already reaching out to meet yours. 

“Rick Grimes, former sheriff over in King County. Really, I can’t express how thankful we all are, Skeeter,” he said warmly, albeit tiredly. There were heavy circles under his eyes and in the back of your mind you wondered about the last time he had gotten a solid night’s rest. You nodded once, shaking his hand briefly. 

“It’s uh— not a problem. The least I could do what with your wife bein’ pregnant and all. Where is she, anyway?” At this point, it would be a real pain in the ass if Rick was lying, but there wasn’t much you could really do anyway if he was. The officer gave a small smile, calling out for a woman who you presumed had already made herself comfortable in the living room. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at these people; not even introduced to their host and already they were acting like they had lived in your grandfather’s home their whole lives. That negative thought was pushed aside, however, when you noticed the incredibly-thin, lanky woman that made her way towards you, looking just as bad as her husband did. 

“This is my wife, Lori.” The woman in question smiled wearily, offering a quiet ‘thank you’ as she came to rest her hand on her husband’s arm. 

_Christ, she’s thin. How in the world does she possibly have the energy to carry a child to term?_

You were no doctor, but there was absolutely no way in hell that the woman was healthy enough to have a baby. Hell, you didn’t even know if she was healthy enough for _herself_. 

“Why don’t I introduce you to the rest of the group? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to meet you,” Rick added, probably feeling just as strange as you did standing in the middle of the foyer. And it wasn’t like you could exactly say _no_ , either. So you acquiesced, being introduced to a wide variety of people left and right, their names beginning to blur after a while. You knew Rick had a son, and that there was a small family with the last name Greene, but other than that it seemed like everyone had come from different places, and everyone in some way or another had lost a lot. Having been introduced to everyone, you only felt it proper to show them the kitchen past the dining room, making a small sweep at the cans of food upon the counter. Green beans, sweet corn, corned beef hash, a wide enough variety for people who had been living off of squirrels and raccoons for weeks. 

“It’s not much, I know,” you stated quietly, carefully avoiding the subject of the basement that was only a handful of feet away from Rick and his group. “But I’m sure it beats whatever you guys have been dealing with. If you’re going to be staying here, I’m sure I could set up some snares for rabbits, but anything more than that is going to require help. I’m not about to waste my resources and not get anything in return. These cans of food are _only_ for emergencies, and I’m only making use of them because you people happened to show up too late to go out and catch anything.” 

“We totally understand,” Rick started, “and we wouldn’t want to do anything that would intrude on your personal space. Not all of us are skilled at hunting, but Daryl should definitely be the help you need. Laundry, gardening, anything, just let us know what we can do to make your life easier.” 

The more he spoke, the more you realized that the rest of the group saw him as a leader of sorts. So far, he had been the one to do all the talking and decision-making, and you wondered why nobody else really said much. You followed his gaze at the mentioning of another, eyes wandering over to the man who seemed more distant from the group than anyone else, his large frame resting against the back end of the counter, arms crossed and a crossbow slung behind his shoulder. His hair was shaggy and greasy, the skin of his face mixed with dirt and the kiss of the scorching Georgia sun. He wasn’t overbearingly tall, you noticed, but the bulk of his muscle was in his arms and broad shoulders, no doubt from using the crossbow and whatever other weapons that were in his preferred arsenal. As if sensing your stare, piercing blue eyes flickered to your face once, then back to the floor, which was apparently much more interesting than acknowledging the woman who had saved his ass not more than a few minutes ago. You shrugged it off; people had seen some real shit in the last few months, and you weren’t going to be the one to judge another’s behavior, as rude as it may have been. 

“Good. Just don’t get comfortable here. This will _never_ be permanent.” 

So maybe you had been a little too harsh. A few people looked physically taken aback, not that you really gave a rat’s ass. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Even Daryl had looked up at your comment, and if his brief encounter with you was anything to go by, it probably wasn’t the best reaction. 

“There’s uh, a shower downstairs and one upstairs. Hot water’s limited, but it’s there, so get yourselves fixed up if you’d like after you finish eating. God knows you need it.” The thought of a warm bath was enough to put a smile on some faces, and you hoped that the distraction might have softened the blow of your words a little. People never really were your thing anyway. Suddenly realizing that this was going to be your last night alone for a few days, you thought it best to maybe light a candle and read a book on the windowsill upstairs, but before doing so you went up and approached Daryl while the rest of the group began to pass around the food for the evening. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow an hour before the sun rises. I’ve seen a couple of deer here and there the past few days, but they’re too big for me to carry. I could use the help tracking them down, could make a big dinner for everyone tomorrow night.” 

There they were again, his eyes. A tinge of nervousness settled in the pit of your stomach, and you found yourself unable to really look at his eyes for too long, so you placed your gaze on a small mole just above his upper lip. He didn’t respond immediately, opting to stare you down instead, but when he did you were a little more than shocked. 

“Don’t bother comin’.” 

“I-I’m sorry?” 

“You heard me. Ya tell us to do our part, and we will. Don’t mean I need some sass bitch messin’ up my hunt in the mornin’. You ain’t got what it _takes_ to put down a deer, so just keep your smartass self inside and I’ll take care of it and m’ family. The less work you do, the better. Besides, not like we’re _permanent_ , right?” 

Before you had the chance to respond, he scoffed and left in a whirlwind of anger, and you were left but to do nothing and stand in the emptiness of your words.


	5. A hundred leaders would be born of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of kudos last chapter, and I’m not quite sure why, but I really appreciate every single last one of them! It was definitely a big confidence booster for me. I also sincerely apologize how about incredibly late this chapter is (almost two weeks whoops)!! Last week I had the worst fucking sinus infection of my life, and then this week I went home to visit family. So things have been kind of crazy, and for that I apologize. Either way, I hope you enjoy this somewhat-slow chapter, and I promise that in the next one the Reader will have much more interaction with Daryl :)

The rest of the evening progressed quite uneventfully. Once you were certain that everyone had gotten their fair share of dinner (although ‘fair’ wouldn’t be the proper word here, considering that there was hardly any to begin with), you bid them all goodnight in the least-menacing way that you could and headed upstairs, a worn, but clearly-loved book tucked under your arm. And while you originally had the intention of either reading late into the night or getting as much sleep as possible, neither option ever really happened. No, instead you spent the entire night awake, half-paranoid that Rick and Daryl would bash down the door and blow your brains out, half-contemplating the latter man’s words to you earlier in the evening. You couldn’t remember the last time you had let someone get under your skin so easily; what did he know about survival, anyway? 

_Probably a lot more than you, fuckwad._

You rolled your eyes after reading the same line of the same paragraph for the umpteenth time, haphazardly throwing the book across the room and ignoring the fact that it almost landed face-first into the fireplace. Despite your most valiant efforts to get the hunter’s words off your mind, you really just _couldn’t_ , and you really weren’t quite sure what to make of the situation. There was some teeny tiny part of you that said you deserved every last bit of rudeness coming your way, while the majority of your damaged ego stomped around yelling that the group downstairs should be _grateful_ that you even let them into your home. And to be honest, you wanted to admit that saying rude comments to your houseguests on the first night that they were here probably wasn’t the best of ideas. Shit, at least wait until they had settled down a bit. But, ever like your father, you were too stubborn to truly admit that you were at fault, so that nagging little bit of your subconscious would just have to wait. 

Downstairs, Rick’s group was huddled in a circle in the living room, discussing their current situation. 

“I don’t like her,” a woman – Maggie – said eventually. “Sure, she let us in, but only ‘cause Lori was pregnant, and even then we barely had enough food to go around for dinner. And did you _see_ the look on her face when she told us that we weren’t permanent?” 

The majority of the group seemed to share her sentiments, save for Rick, Carol, and Hershel. 

The latter man sat up in his chair lightly, a wrinkled hand absentmindedly running through his beard before he turned to address his daughter. “Now Maggie, I wasn’t exactly too thrilled about Rick and his group staying on the farm, either. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we had all gotten along sooner. Maybe we’d still be on the farm and none of this would be happening, but right now we have to consider what she’s going through. Remember that I wanted Carl gone right after his injuries had healed? Maybe we can convince this poor woman to at least let us stay until Lori’s pregnancy is over.” His daughter said nothing in response, but her eyes did seem to soften a little. 

“We _did_ show up at her house after the sun had set. We’re lucky our running about didn’t bring a whole group of walkers with us. She’s probably used to the security that this place brings, and our presence more than likely threatened that,” Carol stated quietly. She wasn’t exactly too thrilled about your mannerisms, but despite your personality she was at least able to understand why you felt the way you did. The house was obviously very well-kept, and she was hoping that the rest of the group would be able to have it stay that way. 

“It’s obvious that she hasn’t been with anyone since the outbreak started, either,” Rick added. “I had Daryl check the area after Skeeter went upstairs, and—”

“Damn near rolled m’ ankle on some rocks out back. Seems like they’re tombstones. Graves ain’t fresh either.” 

The group went quiet. 

\--

Morning came much faster than you thought it would, and for that you had unfortunately slept a half hour later than you wanted to. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call the tiniest bit of sunlight peeking up over the horizon morning, but the animals were beginning to wake up and that was a good enough reason as any to get up. You had no doubt in your mind that Daryl was either already out the door or getting ready for the hunt, and there was no way in hell that you were going to let him out-do you, especially after his comment from last night. Kicking off your worn down slippers, you opened the closet and pulled out your hiking boots, slipping them on after changing into a comfortable pair of cargo pants and a black tank top. In the closet was also a Bear Cruzer compound bow, something that you had picked up from a small hunting store in Luthersville. While archery wasn’t your strongest skill, you had done enough club sports back in college and practiced on enough undead wandering around the field that you considered yourself to be a pretty decent shot. The bow had been, for a lack of better words, attached to the rotting hand of a face-gnasher pinned to the ground by shelving that you presumed had fallen during the chaos of the outbreak. It was a lucky find, given that the rest of the store had been wiped clean. There was also a quiver fully loaded with Gold Tip Velocity arrows, the packaging boasting an incredible 340 feet per second at launch, not like any of that really meant anything to you, but you were sure that rednecks everywhere were practically foaming at the mouth. Stocking four of the arrows into the rest on the bow, you swung the quiver over your shoulder and headed out of your bedroom, the Cruzer gripped tightly in your hand. There was a machete strapped to your leg as well, but so far you hadn’t come across the need to use it while on your hunts. If there was anything lucky about living in such a remote location, it was that the undead didn’t stop by very often, and when they did, you were able to take care of them quietly.

As you made your way downstairs, you listened for any sort of commotion coming from the hallway or the living room, but as far as you were concerned everyone was still fast asleep. No doubt they were absolutely exhausted after hopping from place to place, and despite your negative comments, you were glad that they were able to let their guards down for a little while. You slipped quietly out the front door and glided through the open field with minimal noise, tall wisps of uncut grass brushing your legs along the way. As you approached the edge of the forest, you unhooked one arrow and drew it back, bowstring slightly cocked and at the ready. You trudged through the area as quietly as possible, trying to avoid stepping on as many branches as possible, yet failing miserably. Sometimes, the deer liked to graze on the fields, and if you were lucky enough, there would be one right around—

_There!_

You heard the tell-tale snapping of branches before you saw anything, whirling your body around to get some cover. The creature was only a handful of yards away from your position behind one of the larger trees, frozen solid as its ears had picked up your movements from earlier. Naïve black eyes gazed over to where the source of the noise had come from, ears perked up and legs tense. You took a quick peek around the tree, not so much as daring to breathe, ignoring the sunlight that was beginning to trickle down in between the canopies. You had but one shot, once chance to take out this deer, and then it would be back to square one. Feeling confident, you drew your arrow all the way back and squinted, aiming in between the eyes of the creature. And just when you were about to let go… 

…The whistle of an arrow soared past your ear and stopped abruptly, followed by a large thud that seemed to echo much louder than it really had. Behind you, you heard someone scoff. 

“Told ya’ I didn’t need no damn help.”


	6. Since you've awakened her again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hated being wrong, but hearing your faults from him made it slightly better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I am sooooooo sorry about how late this is! I took an impromptu trip back home to visit my little brother and I just got so caught up spending time with family that I had to put the story on the backburner for a while. And then when I got back, I had a summer class I had to get ready for, so my schedule for updating this got thrown off a bit! Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks I received! It makes me a very happy lady. I think I might re-name some of the chapters. My goal with this story was to base it off of the lyrics to Porter Robinson’s album WORLDS, because a lot of the songs can relate really well to the Walking Dead. But like, some of the titles I have (from Sad Machine) don’t fit with the chapter’s content all too-well, so I might end up re-naming them. We’ll see. I also wanna write some fanfiction for Hellsing… and Game Grumps… and Norman Reedus??? I am trash goodbye (that means send me your suggestions and story prompts). I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!

The now-dead deer went by unnoticed by you and Daryl, the two of you seemingly too busy staring each other down in hopes that just maybe _someone_ would burst into flames due to the sheer intensity of the anger that lingered in your gazes. The sun was really beginning to rise, now, the forest illuminated despite the canopies of trees that hindered most of the light that trickled down into the woods. And with the sun came heat, heat that you would have rather avoided by staying inside the somewhat-cooler confines of your home. 

And yet here you were, giving this country hick your worst death glare because he had taken your kill. 

Well, almost-kill. 

Maybe-kill. 

The “I probably would have had better luck shooting the tree next to the deer” kill. 

You know what? You were fucking _pissed_ because of this asshole’s behavior last night, hunting be damned. 

“I don’t like you,” you said eventually, raising a slim index finger and jabbing it in Daryl’s direction. The man in particular scoffed, rolling his eyes before shrugging his crossbow over his shoulder before sauntering towards you. Expecting little more than a fight, you were ready to drop your compound and just start wailing on the guy, but that notion soon died down when Daryl simply _passed_ you, as if he had never heard your comment in the first place. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he replied, forcefully removing the crossbow bolt embedded in between the deer’s eyes and wiping the remains on his pants. A sound of disgust escaped your lips before you could stop it. 

_Yeeeuup. First class redneck on our hands here._

“I didn’t have to let you and your damn group stay here, you know,” you snapped back. “I could have just as easily told you to piss off, and you’d probably still be running through the fucking woods by now instead of having the security of a home and beds to sleep in. And how am I thanked? I get stuck with some hick insulting me and taking my kill!” 

“ _Your_ kill? Don’t make me laugh, sunshine. If I had let ya fire that bow, that deer woulda’ been long gone by now, your arrow woulda been lodged in a damn tree, and I wasn’t about to let ya take what I had been trackin’ the last two hours. And you’re right; ya didn’t have to let us stay. Ya want a cookie? A pat on the back? I got news for you, _Skeeter_ , your shit kindness ain’t worth more than the piss I just took.” 

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Daryl had left you entirely speechless, although this time you were hell of a lot more pissed off. It took about half a second of contemplation before you waltzed right up to him in a near-sprint, your right hand colliding with the man’s cheek. An audible _slap_ resonated within the forest. Red flags went off in your head before you even walked up to him, but your pride was too injured to really even care. What you didn’t really expect, however, was having your back shoved up against the closest tree, Daryl’s forearm pressed tightly up against your throat, but not enough to bruise. Your hands immediately came up and tried to claw him away, but it was a fruitless effort; his bulk and weight was just too much for you to pry off. Your eyes briefly glanced over the way his sculpted arms tensed, ignoring the brief _zing_ of electricity that pooled in the bottom of your stomach, choosing instead to replace it with well-deserved anger. 

“ _Fuck you, you goddamn hick!_ Get the fuck off of me!” You yelled, raising your leg to knee him in the groin, only to have your leg caught pressed between his thighs. He was too close, much too close for comfort, but he only moved when you did, only becoming a threat when you did. You near-resisted the urge to spit in his face, settling for another death glare instead. “You think you have any fucking idea what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to deal with? You don’t know jack _shit_.” 

“Is whinin’ like a damn bitch all you’re capable of? Don’t act like you’ve seen shit when ya haven’t even stepped a mile outside the comfort of your home. You ain’t got a fuckin’ clue of what it’s like out there! All ya’ve been doin’ is sittin’ on your pompous ass, livin’ off the luxury of all the shit in your basement…” he pauses, then, not failing to notice the look of absolute horror on your face, “Yeah. Don’t think we were stupid enough to miss _that_. Your excuses ain’t worth _shit_ , girl.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “And you’re just some great friend to all of these people? Some leader? Horseshit. I’ve seen the way they look at you, the way you interacted with everyone else last night. Stood over there in your little antisocial corner and didn’t speak to anyone. They keep you because you’re _useful_ , because you’re the only one that actually bothers to go out and get food for everyone else.” 

“At least I didn’t have the gall to tell a pregnant lady that she shouldn’t get comfortable, like she ain’t got enough shit to worry about already.”

“The status of your group is totally irrelevant to me! You really think anyone else would be willing to just let you onto their property and let you stay?” 

“Yeah. Because it already happened to us once before.” 

You didn’t have a witty comeback for that one, and at this point you were positively sure that Daryl was more than pissed off at you, and taking this argument any further would not end well. And who were you to judge any of their pasts, anyway? From the moment they had set foot in your front door, you knew that you had been living better off than all of them combined. Even after showering, most of them looked incredibly sleep-deprived and borderline starving. And who knows if this had been the group that started out when the apocalypse hit? More likely than not, given the fact that one group had adopted another into their care. The worst you’d suffered was your two dead sisters, one of the husbands, and… 

_The baby._

You’d never actually _seen_ the thing, what with it dying in your sister’s womb and all, but the thought alone was enough to bring you to tears. Compared to Rick’s wife, you wondered if the death of your pregnant sister was a blessing. Raising a child in this hell would be nearly impossible. 

At your prolonged silence, Daryl eased up his hold on both your leg and your throat, not quite positive that you wouldn’t do anything stupid, but sure enough to know that you had partially seen the error of your ways. One of your hands came up to cup around the tender skin of your neck, rubbing away at any soreness that had arisen from the other’s hold. Letting out a deep sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose and prayed to whatever was listening, not asking for advice, but not asking for forgiveness either. 

_A little guidance would be nice, is all._

If your grandfather were here, he would have accepted everyone in without question. 

But you weren’t your grandfather, despite valiant efforts to at least try and have some of his characteristics. 

“Look,” you said after a long while, “I’m sorry. People aren’t really my deal. Haven’t dealt with them for a while now, and even when I did I still wasn’t well-liked.” You let out a brisk laugh, hoping to break the tension a little, but all Daryl seemed to do was squint at you, as if saying ‘no fucking shit.’ Waving your hand in the air, you continued. “Anyway, it won’t be easy, but maybe we can find some way to make this whole… ‘thing’ work out. I still can’t trust you or your group, especially after knowing the fact that you pilfered through the place while I was asleep, but it just wouldn’t be right for me to let you stay for a week and then send you away, not when she’s due in a few months.” 

He didn’t offer a smile or a saying of thanks in response, but merely nodded before backing away from you, leaving nothing more than the strong sillage of soil and sweat as a reminder of how close he’d been. 

There was as a lot to think about, honestly. You had to get to know everyone, and you had to make sure that all of them were at least on some level of _sanity_. Going into town might would be a possibility, given that the group had brought transportation with them, so at least that would help to some extent with making sure that supplies weren’t drained entirely. As much as you hated to admit it, there was a very high possibility that this could and _would_ work out. 

_Guess I don’t really have a choice in all this, now do I?_

Leaving your thoughts behind, you followed Daryl’s gaze towards the deer that had been abandoned during the small tussle. The thing was plenty fat enough and fully grown, and had to weigh at least 300 pounds; there was no way either of you would be carrying this back by yourselves. 

Giving Daryl a once-over, you jerked your head towards the carcass. 

“I got a spit roast out back. Let’s get this thing back to the house, yeah?”


	7. a brief update

Well it's certainly been a long time, now hasn't it? 

I apologize SO MUCH for not getting to this story in what, almost a year? Junior year was super hectic and a lot more stressful than I thought it was going to be, and because of that I wasn't able to put in the time or dedication for this fanfic. I appreciate each and every one of you that has given me kudos, left reviews, or overall kept reading this story despite how long it's been since I updated. I absolutely PROMISE to all of you that I will be continuing this fanfic and that there will definitely be more reader x Daryl to come! 

I actually even have a Negan x Reader fanfic planned in the works. It's still in the very early stages of planning (read: I literally don't have a plot for this lmao) but ever since the season finale I've had a really strong itching to write something with him and our dear reader. Not sure if I want to make her part of Rick's group, part of the Saviors, or just totally independent from both, but either way, the creative juices are flowing! I'm very excited to bring that story and more updates of this one to you guys in the near future, so hold on tight!


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